


Rites of Passage

by saintroux



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, College Hockey, Geno's Big Crush, Horny Nonsense, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 05:02:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20204164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintroux/pseuds/saintroux
Summary: Zhenya could hear the loud cacophony of activity inside, and see the weird glow of string lights through the curtains, surefire signs of a North American college party, not entirely dissimilar from the cramped, smoke-filled apartment parties he used to go to back home.





	Rites of Passage

**Author's Note:**

> I chose to set this at University of Pittsburgh even though they no longer have a Division I hockey program, mostly because I am excessively familiar with the area and wanted to keep them based in Pittsburgh! Please suspend any disbelief! 
> 
> In this, I've loosely based the teammates off of the 2008/2009 era team, and in general the actual ages of people have been ignored because it's an AU and I do what I want. In this, Geno is 21 and Sid is 20. 
> 
> Thanks to the usual cohorts for their encouragement and inspiration in writing about nasty college boys boning down. I hope it lives up to the hype. <3

“Watch where you’re walking!” some guy shouted, hanging out the side of his car, his face red as he zipped through the crosswalk and past Zhenya’s face, far too close for comfort. Zhenya skittered back onto the sidewalk for a moment, looking one way and then the other, trying not to bump into anyone standing on the curb. All around him people skittered into bars, some girl knocked him with her backpack. The light was getting dim then, orange-purple in the sky behind the cathedral and the dormitory buildings. 

Zhenya had been in Pittsburgh for a solid month and a half now. He still had no clue where he was going. 

In his pocket were the directions that Flower scrawled out for him: take a right, take a left, go up the hill past Presby and take a sharp right again. He couldn’t read some of the street names, but he kept trying to follow them, laboring up the steep street incline until he passed the hospital parking decks and he spotted Max jaywalking a block up, two girls hanging off of his arms and a case of beer tucked into one fist. 

Zhenya quickened his steps, swerving around a bus enclosure and dodging a bush. “Talbo!” 

Max slowed to a stop and the girls turned, heads cocked at Zhenya running toward them. 

“Hey, bud—“ Max said, clapping Zhenya on the back as Zhenya stopped to catch his breath. “You headed up?” He nodded his head up the hill, another steep incline that Zhenya was dreading. He still hadn't gotten used to it.

“Yeah,” Zhenya said, wiping sweaty palms on his pants, eyes darting between Max and the two girls, who Zhenya maybe had met before but couldn’t remember their names. “Little lost.”

“Stick close then, eh?” Max patted his hip and started walking, gesturing Zhenya to follow. “We’ll get you there in one piece.” 

They climbed at least two more hills and one flight of stairs hidden by some awkwardly trimmed brush before they got to the house, a big two-story brick house on a corner that looked not unlike the nicer houses in Magnitogorsk, though compared to what else Zhenya had seen in North America, he was sure it had seen better days. 

“You play hockey?” one of the girls asked him, as they climbed the stairs up from the street level to the porch. Her hair was long and pulled back in a ponytail. It looked very soft. “I haven’t seen you before.” 

“I just move here this year,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck and smiling a little nervously. “Rookie.” 

“Nice to meet you rookie,” she laughed, putting a hand on his arm, warm through the fabric of his overshirt. “I’m Alison.” 

A couple of people that Zhenya didn’t know were sitting on the porch swing smoking in the dark. “It’s unlocked,” one of them said, blowing smoke out towards the street. Zhenya could hear the loud cacophony of activity inside, and see the weird glow of string lights through the curtains, surefire signs of a North American college party, not entirely dissimilar from the cramped, smoke-filled apartment parties he used to go to back home. 

Max pushed the door open to a wave of sound, and ushered Zhenya and Alison and the other girl who Zhenya still hadn’t been introduced to inside, past a couple making out against a coat rack in the entryway and further into the depths of the house. 

They passed a couple of teammates on the way in, and Max gestured with the case of beer he had in his hand. “Sid’s out back with the coolers,” they said, and Zhenya went wordlessly through the crowds, following Max out back, his heartbeat quickening. It smelled like entire buckets of vodka in the house, at least half of the people that Zhenya saw wandering around were shirtless. Zhenya felt suitably overdressed in his jeans and two shirts. 

Sid was indeed on the back deck as advertised, standing there in front of the grill in a t-shirt that clung to his arms, his face sweaty from the flames. He turned at the sound of the door opening and smiled at them, and Zhenya tried to be cool and focused on Alison’s hand on his forearm and looked away. 

“Cooler is on the stairs, bud,” Sid said to Max, and then he tapped Zhenya on the hand with his dirty burger tongs and said, “You made it.” 

Zhenya had to look at Sid then, and he regretted it almost immediately. Sid had a sunburn on his nose and his hair was curling out the front of his backwards hat. Zhenya had been trying _very_ hard to not develop the world’s most embarrassing crush on him. It had been going—badly, but Sid was very kind and welcoming and he kept driving Zhenya to the rink and smiling at Zhenya like _that_ and Zhenya was only a man. 

Zhenya tried to smile at him and hoped it looked cute and friendly and not weird. “Team party, of course I’m come,” he said, and didn’t tell Sid that maybe he wouldn’t have come had Sid not personally invited him last week when they were cramped together in Sid’s tiny car. 

“You want a burger?” Sid asked, still smiling that dumb smile, already throwing two burgers on paper plates, the grease soaking out in big puddles. He handed one to Zhenya and then the other, and Zhenya fumbled a little before he handed it to Alison, who Zhenya had kind of forgotten was still there like the asshole he was. “Buns and shit are over there. And beer and whatever. Help yourselves.” 

“Want me to get you a drink?” Alison asked him, after Zhenya finished piling his burger high with relish and onions and too much mustard, squirting out under the bun and onto his plate. 

“Uh, okay.” Zhenya let her pick one out, some beer that probably wasn’t to Zhenya’s taste. Max seemed to have disappeared somewhere, and Alison and Zhenya went out into the backyard where a bunch of people were crowded around a small bonfire in half-broken lawn chairs. Zhenya settled himself on an upturned bucket between Alison and Kunitz, who seemed to be generally in charge of the fire itself, poking at it with a long branch from time to time. 

“Where’d you transfer from?” Alison asked him, peeling the top bun off of her burger and eating it like an open face sandwich, a big slice of tomato sliding off onto the grass. 

“Russia,” Zhenya said, because that was as much information as most people wanted. “I’m grow up there, play hockey, come here this year for hockey.” 

“Oh, okay,” she said, taking another bite and letting a beat of silence hang between them. “I play tennis, but I’m, uh—not very good. It’s mostly for fun.” 

Zhenya kept hearing Sid laughing from the deck, opening and shutting the grill cover, cackling and stomping his foot when something was particularly funny, which was often. It was an unflattering laugh, but Zhenya liked it, and selfishly wanted Sid to direct it at _him_. 

“Maybe I beat you tennis sometime,” he said to Alison, because they were hanging out, and he was trying not to be a total jerk. She was nice, and short and kind of pretty, in a way that seemed non-threatening. Maybe she also had a good laugh. 

“You’re good?” she asked, tilting her head at him. 

“Maybe,” Zhenya replied, and took a drink of his beer, just as subpar as he had assumed it was, and looked out toward the fire. “I’m okay.” 

But try as he might, he couldn’t find much to talk with her about, and they quickly devolved into a weird lull. He liked to think of himself as kind of smooth, but he was quickly realizing that American women were—hard to crack. It didn’t help that he couldn’t remember the words for things sometimes, or that he was currently pretty distracted by the party’s host. 

Alison’s friend and Max returned at some point, stumbling back from the driveway, crouching down in the grass by Zhenya’s seat. Someone had handed Zhenya an aggressively toasted marshmallow sandwich, and it was melting a little in his hand. 

“You wanna go inside and dance, big guy?” Max asked, hand on Zhenya’s shoulder. He smelled a lot like smoke and perfume. Zhenya could guess what he’d been up to. Zhenya looked over at Alison, who shrugged and smiled a little. 

“Okay,” Zhenya agreed. Maybe he wasn’t so good with words, but he knew how to move his body. And it would be good for him, probably, inside the dark house where he could focus on the music and dance with Alison, who seemed tentatively interested in him, more interested than Sid was, in any case. 

Sid, who was still laughing and gabbing with Tanger on the deck. He smiled and waved at Zhenya and Max as they went into the house through the sliding glass door. “Enjoy, boys!” he called, annoyingly genuine the way he always was, looking after his flock. 

Inside the house was just as sweat-inducing and loud as it had been when Zhenya had arrived, maybe even moreso. Someone had turned on a weird pink strobe light by the stairwell, and it cast everyone in a shimmery sick glow. Around the exterior of the room were a few groups lazing around talking and drinking, but Max led them right to the center, where people were clustered and dancing off-beat to the music in an indistinguishable heap. 

Paul, who always seemed to be where the trouble was, was right there in the thick of it, and he shouted and whooped loudly when they approached, tugging Zhenya in by the arm. 

“C’mon! Come on in!” he shouted, and held Zhenya by the hips until he started shaking them back and forth mechanically. It was too loud for Zhenya to talk much or understand what people were saying, but he looked back at Alison who was laughing behind his shoulder, and she shook her hips good-naturedly in return, clearly amused. 

“You want?” he asked her, and turned out of Paul’s grip to dance with her more directly, stuck between all the bodies, shimmying and shaking without much care. At some point, Max appeared at his side and shoved another drink in his hand, something cloying and sweet and cold. Zhenya downed a lot of it all at once and kept dancing, hand on Alison’s waist as they swayed close together, dancing a little dirty: the only way he knew how. Alison was talking to her friend in front of her, and Zhenya smiled quickly at Max over their heads and then closed his eyes, moving to the music, trying and failing not to imagine what he would do if Sid came inside to dance, if Zhenya was sidled up next to him with Sid’s hands on his waist the way they were sometimes when he slipped past Zhenya in the change room at the rink. 

Time slipped by just moving and sweating, until Alison tapped at his chest and directed him to lean down so she could speak into his ear. She smelled like salty sweat and bad beer and flowery perfume. Zhenya took a deep breath. “I gotta go, okay? Beth isn’t feeling so hot,” she said, nodding her head back to where her friend was swaying unevenly in Max’s loose grip. 

Zhenya nodded in understanding, and grimaced. Did they need him to call a cab? Well, he didn’t really know how to call a cab in this city. “You live close?” he asked, because he didn’t want them to have to walk home alone, but he knew that any offer of his help would be decidedly unhelpful. He could barely turn a few corners here before he was utterly lost. 

“Someone is picking us up, don’t worry,” Alison assured him, and patted his arm. 

“You carry her?” he asked. Alison was pretty short, but maybe she was strong enough. 

“Wanna help me get her ass to the door?” she offered, and Zhenya could do that for sure. He put his cup in Max’s free hand and hoisted one of Beth’s arms over his shoulder, crouching down so that he and Alison could drag her out to the porch swing. 

He looked out at two guys getting hot and heavy against one of the rhododendrons and flushed a little and raised his eyebrows. Alison laughed, covering her mouth to muffle the sound. 

“Thanks for that,” she said, touching Zhenya’s arm again. “You’re sweet.” 

A lot of people had called Zhenya sweet. He tried to be; his mother would be proud of it. 

He smiled at Alison as a car pulled up around the corner. “See you?” 

“That’s us,” she said, smacking Beth’s arm and hoisting her up from her seat, smiling a tired smile at him, her cheeks flushed dark red from the heat inside. Zhenya thought that he should want to kiss her now, or that he was supposed to. But he didn’t, and maybe it wasn’t the time. “See you around, rookie.” 

Zhenya laughed a little, and watched them get into the back of the car, and then ambled back inside the noisy house, parched from drinking and dancing. He shoved through the crowded living room into the kitchen for some water, and nearly jumped when he bumped right into Sid, who was standing at the sink with the tap on blast, blotting haphazardly at his shirt. 

Sid had his shirt pulled up to his chest, exposing the smooth pink skin of his stomach and the low hang of his cargo shorts. He had what looked like tomato sauce splattered all across his shirt and his neck. Zhenya’s first awful instinct was to lick it off. 

“You make mess?” he asked instead, and laughed a little, poking fun at Sid the way he always saw the team do. Sid crinkled his eyes up predictably and smiled that huge white smile. Fuck. 

“Some drunk asshole got me with a sloppy joe,” he said, and splashed a bunch more water on the stain. It didn’t look like it was helping. “It’s a good look, eh?” 

“Very cool,” Zhenya laughed. 

Sid turned the tap off and let his shirt fall back down. It was sopping wet and clung to the flat plane of his stomach. Zhenya swallowed around his dry throat and tried to look away from it and up into Sid’s face but that was no better. His cheeks felt hot. Hopefully Sid thought his flush was just from the heat and not horny shame about how good he thought Sid looked. 

“You having a good time?” Sid asked, leaning lazily against the wet counter, smiling crookedly at him, his hat askew. 

Zhenya searched for his voice to reply. “Yeah, it’s uh—very fun. Big house.” 

“I saw you dancing out there,” Sid said, and Zhenya flushed anew, scratching at the back of his neck to have something to do with his hands that wasn’t reaching out and touching Sid where he looked most touchable. He wanted to put his hands on Sid like he hadn’t really wanted to with Alison, which was annoying and inconvenient. 

Was Sid _watching_ him dancing out there? Maybe he had seen Zhenya dancing with Alison or Max or Paul. Why hadn’t he come to join? 

“Oh, you came in here for a drink, right?” Sid asked out of the weird tense silence. He turned the tap on and rinsed a cup out. 

“Water,” Zhenya said, smacking his lips a little to show Sid how dry they were, and taking the sloshy-full cup when Sid filled it. “Thanks.” 

“No problem, bud,” Sid said, and watched him drink half of the water down at once, which was kind of weird, but Zhenya had, over the past month and a half, realized that Sid was kind of weird. Nice and cute and very good at hockey. But weird. 

“You got something—“ Sid said, and brushed his hand over the corner of his own mouth. Zhenya mimicked the gesture, but didn’t feel anything there on his skin. Did he have a cut? It didn’t sting or chafe. But Sid reached forward into his space, then, and took his own thumb, wet from spit, and rubbed it roughly over Zhenya’s lip. Zhenya froze, barely even breathing. He felt himself tightening in his pants, which was even more embarrassing than the blushing had been. 

“Got it.” Sid bounced back into his own space, triumphant. “You had some mustard or something. Saving it for later?” 

Zhenya wanted to laugh, because it was kind of funny. But he was still thinking about the pad of Sid’s thumb on his mouth and how he wanted to tug Sid back in and suck on it a little, and kiss him. Maybe he would taste like mustard or beer or sloppy joe, whatever that was. 

Sid was still picking a little at the spill on his shirt, inspecting the blurry edges of the stain like it would make it disappear. “I think I’m gonna—“ he said, wrinkling his nose at it. “I think I’m gonna go change. This thing is toast.” 

“You live here?” Zhenya asked, stupidly, even though he had vaguely assumed that Sid _did_ live here, since he was the captain and manning the grill and had invited Zhenya in the first place, which would be weird to do if it was someone else’s home. But he didn’t want Sid to disappear upstairs and stop talking to him. He selfishly wanted to monopolize Sid’s attention while he had it. 

“Since last year, yeah—“ Sid said, reaching behind Zhenya to take a few chips out of a bag on the counter. “With Kuni and Duper and a few of the other guys. You want me to show you around? Maybe you’ll live here, eh—if you stick around next year.” He looked hopeful, like all he wanted to do at this very moment was give Zhenya the guided tour of this dilapidated old house, filled with questionable stains and too much hockey shit on the walls. 

Sid swept past him and into the foyer that led to the stairwell, stepping around a few backpacks and fist bumping one of the guys that Zhenya only vaguely recognized as someone who worked the desk at the rink. Zhenya followed him up the staircase, holding onto the sticky wooden rail, feeling the steps creak under his feet. 

“There are two floors and the basement,” Sid said, climbing the stairs two at a time. “There is technically a room down there but no one wants to live in it so it’s just filled with a bunch of old gear and party shit, mostly.” 

He pressed open the first door they came to on the landing. “This is the bathroom, it kind of works,” he said, and Zhenya poked his head inside. The mirror had a few noticeable cracks in it and the toilet was painted a weird robins-egg blue. There was a UPitt flag hanging on the wall, which seemed like a weird thing to look at while you took a shit. 

“Fancy,” Zhenya said, mock serious, and wiggled his brows a little, goading Sid to laugh. 

“Nicer than some,” Sid said, laughing like Zhenya had wanted, and pulled the door closed again and ushered Zhenya down the hall with a warm hand on the small of Zhenya’s back, which he didn’t remove even as he pointed out the other rooms, most of them with their doors half-ajar. 

“Last but not least—“ Sid said, and took a key out of his cargo shorts and wiggled it roughly in the final door until it creaked open. “This is me.” 

Sid’s room was a hot mess, messier than Zhenya might have expected from someone who was maniacally good about being on time for practice and never failed to follow the prescribed workout written on the blackboard in the rink’s gym. There were clothes _everywhere_, undifferentiated heaps of muted colors, a few flashes of Pitt blue and white peeking out here and there. There were at least ten uncut hockey sticks propped up in one corner, and the desk was covered in, well, a lot of things: mail, stick tape, a pile of badly folded boxer briefs. 

“So messy,” Zhenya said, laughing as he looked around at the wreckage of it, as if he didn’t also have unfolded laundry scattered across his room. Well, at least he could see his _floor_. He wasn’t a total slob. 

“I’m busy, okay—“ Sid said, and Zhenya was delighted to see him flush a deep pink all over his face. “This is like—it’s not usually this bad.” Zhenya smirked at him, watching him squirm and scratch the back of his neck. Sid turned around to fish through one of the heaps and he pulled out another shirt: a soft-looking blue, and threw it on the bed and then just stripped his wet, sloppy shirt off right there. 

It was Zhenya’s turn to squirm, trying and failing not to look at Sid’s pink nipples, the same color as his cheeks, or the soft curve of his stomach above the sagging line of his shorts. 

“Okay, sure. You very clean.” Zhenya was kind of appalled with himself that the wreck didn’t dull the shine on his crush, that he was still staring at the sweet curve of Sid’s bicep and not at the unsightly pile of damp towels on his desk chair. 

“Well I’m clean now, eh?” he said, gesturing to the pale skin of his chest because he hadn’t put his new shirt on yet for some reason, and he took a step towards Zhenya with his hands still fanned out, and well—

Zhenya swallowed as Sid stepped into his space, just inside the lip of the door because Zhenya hadn’t dared to move further inside and step on something weird. He was mentally recalculating the past fifteen minutes of conversation and also perhaps recalculating every encounter he’d had with Sid for the entire last month and a half. When he bought Zhenya a coffee from 7-Eleven on their carpool to the rink or all of the times he spotted Zhenya’s pitiful squats at the gym, hands hovering a little too close to Zhenya’s ribs—maybe Zhenya wasn’t the only one with a crush. 

He had been very consumed with trying not to look too long. Sid was embarrassingly kind and generous and good enough to look at that it made Zhenya’s head spin sometimes. Maybe Sid had noticed him looking. Maybe he had wanted Zhenya to look. 

“So how you like it?” Sid asked, close enough now that Zhenya could touch. He could smell a little bit of Sid’s sweat and deodorant, warm from his flushed skin. 

“It’s nice,” Zhenya replied, dragging his eyes slowly up and down Sid’s frame and then looking him straight in the eye, feeling emboldened by this new spin on the signals that Sid had been giving him. “Nicest I’m see, maybe.” 

He felt hot deep in his gut, twitching and antsy, the way he hadn’t felt with Alison or the others he’d been dancing with downstairs in the living room, packed in like sardines. That had been fun, but this was—

Sid’s warm palm was on Zhenya’s waist, then. “You know what I’m, uh—“ he said, and looked out into the hall over Zhenya’s shoulder for a moment and then back at his face. “You know what I’m asking, right?” 

Zhenya laughed, then. Sid was trying to be so smooth, and it was endearing, really. Zhenya was charmed. But he was as smooth as sandpaper. 

“Yes,” Zhenya said, and hooked three of his fingers in the waistband of Sid’s godawful shorts and tugged him until he tripped into Zhenya’s chest, bracketing him between Sid’s big, thick body and the hard edge of the doorframe. “I’m know.” 

Zhenya held his breath for the bare moment that it took for Sid to lean in and kiss him, sure that he had made some ridiculous miscalculation and was about to get shoved out of the house about it. Instead, Sid shoved him back into the drywall and shoved his tongue in Zhenya’s mouth and his hands up under the hem of his shirt. 

“I can’t believe—“ Sid said, nipping at Zhenya’s lower lip and diving back in. Zhenya put a hand on his cheek to slow him, guiding him a little bit into the way Zhenya wanted to be kissed: lazily and with copious tongue. He kissed Sid like he thought he should have kissed Alison on the porch and felt his stomach jittering with a thousand tiny beetles and his dick getting hard. 

“C’mere,” Sid said, tugging on the hem of Zhenya’s shirt and taking a step back into the room, sidestepping various items strewn about the floor with ease. “It’s better over here.” Zhenya took a single step and immediately stepped on a pizza box and looked down at it and then back up at Sid, shamelessly half-naked and amused about the whole stupid thing. 

“You slob, Sid!” he laughed, gesturing around at everything. “Can’t get off here, okay, have to find someone else room.” 

“You wanna get off, eh?” Sid smirked, and Zhenya felt himself flush all over his face and down his neck, sucking his lips into his mouth, embarrassed at being overeager. Well there was no shame in it. He wanted Sid. So what. 

Sid pushed all of the clothes and notebooks and other nonsense off of the bedcovers and then threw the comforter down on top of them as well, the bed stripped to nothing but pillows and a deep green fitted sheet. He grabbed at Zhenya with both hands and turned him in one swift motion and plopped him down onto the mattress. “Move back, c’mon, lay down,” he told Zhenya, and then climbed in after him once Zhenya deigned to obey. 

“Take your shirt off,” Sid said, crawling over Zhenya and shoving his knees apart with the thick shape of his thigh. When Zhenya didn’t do it fast enough, he put grubby hands on the shirt’s hem and hiked it up all the way to Zhenya’s armpits and pressed a wet kiss to each side of Zhenya’s ribs. 

“So bossy,” Zhenya complained half-heartedly, even though he loved it and wanted Sid to push him around and rile him up more than anything. “Be captain, tell me what to do.” 

“Uh huh,” Sid agreed, but didn’t look up from his work. He pressed Zhenya’s shirt up his arms until it was entirely covering Zhenya’s face and he was forced to remove it. After he’d tossed the shirt aside, Sid smiled wide at the newly revealed skin of his chest, and leaned down to bite at his nipple. Zhenya yelped and nearly kneed him. 

“Careful—“ Sid was all over him and it was killing him, really. He’d imagined this more than a few times—riding the bike in the gym and thinking about Sid helping him stretch after everyone was gone and pressing him down into the mats, smothering him and rubbing their dicks together until they both came. Sid’s thigh was painfully close to his groin now, and he wanted to shimmy down the bed until he could rut against it. 

“You’re sensitive, eh?” Sid asked, clearly amused, and then sucked the other nipple into his mouth gently, not enough to sting. He propped himself up on one arm and looked at Zhenya’s sweaty face, smiling disarmingly, looking wicked in his stupid hat with his heat pink cheeks. “That the only place you’re sensitive?” 

Zhenya couldn’t handle this, he was going to melt into the bedsheets and crumble into dust and blow out the window. He sat up and pressed on Sid’s chest until he toppled away, off-balance. “I’m—Sid—“ He was as flushed as a pickled beet. Sid was laughing softly, his eyes creased shut. “You so much, oh my god.”

Zhenya felt a sting of youthful embarrassment shoot through him like lightning and he buried his face in his hands. “Hey—“ Sid said, pulling one of Zhenya’s palms away from his face and down into his lap, leaning close. “Hey—it’s okay.“

“Sorry,” Zhenya said, dropping his other hand tentatively and grimacing. “It’s like—you know. I like but I don’t think you like. I’m surprise.” 

“I like it,” Sid assured him, gathering Zhenya’s hands together and running his fingers up Zhenya’s forearms until he shivered. “I’ve seen you, you know—looking at me.” 

Zhenya tried to cover his flaming cheeks again but Sid kept him still. “Sid—“ he complained. He took back entirely what he had thought about Sid not being smooth. This was pretty fucking smooth and Zhenya was _not_ prepared at all. He felt every inch of his twenty-one years old.

“I was looking too,” Sid said, and scooted closer, rolling himself off of Zhenya’s legs to sit next to him, cupping Zhenya’s jaw with his warm hand. “I’ve been trying not to be too weird about it—didn’t wanna scare off our new star center.” 

He grinned into Zhenya’s mouth when they kissed. Zhenya felt warm all over, jittering out of his body. Sid was way too much—on the ice, as a friend, in bed. He was too kind and too loud and too built and too blunt about his stupid feelings and Zhenya hated it and loved it in equal measure. 

“C’mon, come over here,” Sid said between kisses, patting Zhenya’s thigh and dragging Zhenya into his lap. Zhenya settled right down, ready to throw any caution he’d been harboring to the wind and just go for it, fuck the rules and insecurity. He wanted Sid to be taken with him— impressed. 

Sid’s chest was sweaty and pink and warm all over and Zhenya put his hands on it, right over Sid’s ribs. He licked into Sid’s mouth and flicked his nipples lightly and listened to him groan. “Fuck, Geno—“ 

“I see who sensitive,” Zhenya mumbled into his mouth, Sid’s saliva all over their lips, easing the way. He flicked over them again, feeling them pebble under his fingers, and then slid his hands up Sid’s chest and neck and up under his hat, pushing it off of his head and getting his fingers tangled in Sid’s damp hair, the way he always wanted to when Sid appeared in the locker room fresh from the showers. 

Zhenya’s whole body was on fire, Sid’s hands roaming his stomach and back as they kissed. “I’m gonna get you for that,” Sid said, and ran his hands down until they clamped around Zhenya’s ass, taking greedy palmfuls of it, pressing Zhenya back and forth in his lap until Zhenya was hard and leaking inside his jeans. 

Downstairs, Zhenya wondered if people were still going, or if anyone had noticed their absence or seen them go upstairs together. Maybe someone would come searching for them and open the door and see—but he was too horny to be deterred, not when maybe this would be his only chance. Who knew how Sid would feel about it all in the light of day. 

Sid’s hands slid from palming him through his jeans to sliding under his waistband, fingers brushing his overheated skin. He urged Zhenya to rub against him even harder, and looked between their bodies and whistled, low. “You like this?” he asked, knowing full well the answer. Zhenya felt pinned in his lap, pressing back into his palms and forward into his hard cock. His knee was a little sore. he couldn’t see anything but Sid’s lowered eyelashes, but he could hear the smirk in his words. 

“I see you in the showers sometimes,” Sid continued, as if Zhenya wasn’t overwhelmed enough already. “You wanna let me see again?” His fingers circled under Zhenya’s waistband until they brushed the head of his dick, where he was wet and twitching. 

Zhenya couldn’t help but moan; he was achingly hard, and he could feel Sid interested beneath him. “Can’t deal with—you supposed to keep eyes to your_self_!” 

“Oh, do you?” Sid asked, like Zhenya’s every furtive inappropriate glance was clear as day to him. 

Zhenya huffed, and swung his legs off the bed and scrambled out of his jeans before he could convince himself it was a bad idea. When he looked back at Sid’s face, he was watching Zhenya with dark eyes, hands holding his fly open, his dick distending the shape of his briefs in the space between. 

Zhenya raised an eyebrow at him. He wanted to see it. It was true that he had _looked_ before, yes, but he tried to be somewhat discreet. But Sid’s dick, when he pulled it out of the opening in his briefs, was thicker than Zhenya remembered from glances in the showers, and a deep pink like his mouth, the foreskin pulled back to reveal the shiny, fat head. He was every single one of Zhenya’s awful fantasies of jacked college teammates come to life. Zhenya went hot and took his own dick in hand and climbed back onto the mattress, Sid’s eyes tracking him the whole time. 

He wanted to—he wanted to put his mouth on it, even though he’d only done it a few times before with a man. But Sid’s dick looked like a mouthful, and he was tipsy and horny and hopefully Sid wouldn’t notice any errors in his technique. 

“What’s up?” Sid asked, as he shimmied closer, and Zhenya didn’t use his words at all, he just put his palms on Sid’s knees under the hem of his shorts and nuzzled his face in Sid’s groin, where he smelled strongly of sweat and salt, a little funky. He licked a slow stripe up the base of Sid’s dick, and put his lips over the exposed head like a wet french kiss, looking up to see Sid’s eyes slit mostly closed, his fists clenched tight at his sides. 

“You can touch—“ Zhenya said, pulling away for a moment. “I want. It’s okay.” He eased the head back into his mouth, going down in slow bobs, sliding his tongue under the rim of Sid’s foreskin where he tasted saltiest. 

“Shit—“ Sid said, and slid his hands into Zhenya’s hair and tugged, a little too sharp and all at once. Zhenya slid down further until he was gagging a little and let Sid’s hands cradle his skull as he sucked, his nose tickling Sid’s pubes and the seam of his underwear where it was curled around the base of his dick. “That’s really, uh—you’re really good at that.” 

Zhenya sucked hard and sloppy, sliding his mouth back up, making a huge mess of Sid’s underwear with spit and precome. He pulled off the head with a noisy ‘pop’ and propped his face up on Sid’s thick thigh, staring up at him, smug about how affected Sid seemed by his overeager, pedestrian efforts. 

“Practice,” Zhenya said, and smiled a shit-eating grin and licked up a big drop of fresh precome from the leaking head, keeping his gaze locked with Sid’s dark eyes the whole time. 

“I’m gonna come if you keep doing that,” Sid warned, and put a hand on Zhenya’s shoulder to push him back a little. Zhenya sat back on his heels, looking at Sid spread out with his dick fat and deep red and looking obscene against his stomach, his fly damp. Zhenya pinched his own leg, certain that he was dreaming. 

“Maybe I want,” Zhenya said, hands crossed over his chest. 

“Okay, sure.” Sid came closer to him, and then patted Zhenya’s knee and climbed off the bed entirely, standing next to it and shucking his shorts and briefs off in one quick swoop. “Let’s do it this way, though—get up.” 

The floor by the bed was even more of a mess than it had been earlier, with the covers and the assorted homework and backpacks and nonsense tossed nearby. Zhenya peered over the edge of the mattress at it trepidatiously. 

“C’mon,” Sid said, kicking at the pile with his foot until a small space was clear for Zhenya to step into. “I wanna touch you.” 

It was a convincing proposition. Zhenya stepped one foot gingerly into the cleared space, and then the other—being really dramatic about it, trying not to laugh as Sid stared at him, one hand on his cocked hip, dopey grin on his stupidly cute face. He knew Zhenya was hard up for him and couldn’t say no, the motherfucker. 

“See,” Sid said, putting his hands all over Zhenya’s waist and kissing him—his mouth, his jaw, his neck. “Not so bad, eh.” He pressed Zhenya back into the mattress until he toppled over, Sid’s thick body between his hips, both of their legs hanging off the side of the bed. With both of them fully naked, Zhenya could fully explore the planes of Sid’s body like he wanted, letting Sid suck on his neck while he grabbed rough handfuls of Sid’s huge, sweaty ass. 

“You’re trouble,” Sid told him when he let his fingers slide down into the crease of Sid’s ass, brushing against his hole, and he pulled Zhenya’s wrists up until they were pinned above his head and flipped him awkwardly around. But Zhenya could see where this wind was blowing as Sid put him on his stomach and pressed back against him, sweat sticky between their bodies, Sid’s hips against the curve of Zhenya’s ass. 

“What you do?” He asked, goading Sid, teasing him into action. Even the slide of the sheets against Zhenya’s hard dick left him wanting it, and he held his breath as Sid slid a hand down his side to his hip, and pulled himself up to stand, dragging his fingers over Zhenya’s ass to his hole. 

“God,” Sid said, frozen for a moment with his hand resting on Zhenya’s ass. Zhenya pressed back into it. “You really do have the best ass on the team.” 

“You look at everyone’s ass? Pick favorites?” Zhenya asked him, honestly a little curious. Was he the only one that Sid had _looked_ at over the years? 

“Maybe,” Sid said, laughing softly to himself. He pressed dry fingertips against Zhenya’s hole, testing him. “You like it?” Zhenya nodded and pressed his cheek into the mattress and heard Sid spit, and a second later felt it in a wet glob—sliding down his crack, which was pretty gross in isolation, but Zhenya was shamelessly into it. 

He’d only ever let one guy fuck him before—Pasha—one of his teammates back in Magnitogorsk, at the hotel on a long road trip to Moscow, drunk and in the dark hours of the early morning. They’d wrestled like children in between their beds until Pasha had gotten Zhenya suitably pinned and well—things had only snowballed from there. It had felt weird at first, which it always seemed to, even when Zhenya touched himself there. But he had liked it. A lot. 

“I’m not gonna fuck you but I can—“ Sid said, sliding his index finger through the trail of spit and pressing it into Zhenya’s hole, one knuckle and then another. Zhenya braced himself, mouth open, fist clenched in the sheets. “Good?” 

Zhenya could _hear_ the smile in Sid’s voice, like he knew Zhenya loved this and he wanted to take advantage—sweet, kind, goofy Sid. Zhenya loved this sly, smug side of him. He wanted this Sid to take him apart. 

“You can—“ Zhenya said, wiggling his hips a little to get more comfortable. “More.” Sid was quick to pull back and fit another finger inside at his urging and Zhenya let himself relish in the slow, overwhelming pressure of something inside him. 

“Like this?” Sid asked, sliding in and out, fucking Zhenya with his fingers, draping himself back over Zhenya’s body and kissing him between his shoulder blades and down his spine. Zhenya just let himself roll back into it, Sid’s hand curling deep inside him, feeling the friction as he dragged back out. He could feel Sid’s dick leaking a puddle on the cheek of his ass and it really got him going to think about Sid just pulling his fingers out and slipping inside. Maybe next time, if Sid wanted a next time. 

Zhenya groaned noisily when Sid hooked his fingers just right, glad that the door was shut and the party was loud enough on the floor below to drown out his embarrassment. People already thought he was odd for being a freakishly tall ESL kid on a hockey scholarship. He didn’t need to add any fuel to their fire: queer foreign exchange student loudly dicked down by hockey team captain, rated XXX. 

“Can’t believe how close I am, fuck—“ Sid said, breath warm against Zhenya’s skin. “Gonna rub off on your ass and make a mess.” 

Zhenya was pretty surprised himself, he felt close to bursting just rubbing against the sheet beneath him and screwing himself back onto Sid’s hand. “Do it.” 

“Hike your hips up,” Sid said, and gripped one side of Zhenya’s hips in his warm hand and pulled him up a little, changing the angle just-so, enough that Zhenya could worm his hand under his body to rub at himself. 

“Close—“ Zhenya squeaked out, because even the touch of his own hand was too much. He had to hold himself roughly around the base of his dick to keep himself from coming. 

Sid seemed to take it as encouragement instead of warning. “Nice,” he said, and stilled his fingers in Zhenya’s ass, putting sustained pressure right where it felt the most mind-numbing, like he had definitely done this before and knew his way around. “Go for it.” 

Zhenya did. He jerked himself to completion in three long strokes, grip light and tingling, his body electric all over, twitching. Sid’s dick was fat and warm, smashed between his hand and the cheek of Zhenya’s ass, and as Zhenya brought himself over the edge he just kept grinding it there, up and down until Zhenya felt a whole wet mess of his come seep out over the sore edge of his hole and he heard Sid let out a choked off groan. 

The room around them filtered back in as Zhenya lay there breathing, the thump of the stereo downstairs, shouting from the front yard. Sid pulled his fingers out of Zhenya’s ass with a slick squelch and fell bonelessly on Zhenya’s back, wiping the mess all over his bedsheets. 

“I think I left the grill on,” Sid said, lips brushing Zhenya’s shoulder. 

“Sid!” Zhenya mustered all of his energy into flipping around under Sid’s heavy body, eyebrows jumping up his forehead, but when he turned and saw Sid’s face, it was creased with laughter. 

“I’m kidding!” he said, as Zhenya pressed him in the pink center of his chest, laughing all the while, loud and amused with himself. “I’m kidding, c’mon.” He kept giggling as he tackled Zhenya to the mattress, both of them still naked and sweaty all over and smelling like come and beer. There was an unmistakable wet spot under Zhenya’s ass. 

“Worst host,” Zhenya chided, and tipped his chin up and allowed himself to be kissed again, settling into that slow rhythm of sleepy post-fuck making out. 

“You think so?” Sid asked, propped up on one arm on Zhenya’s chest, looking sweet and young, too earnest for someone who had just had rough fingers deep in Zhenya’s ass. 

“No,” Zhenya said, and fished a tape roll out from under his pillow and threw it off the end of the bed until it thunked against the wall. He picked up a lethargic hand to put it in Sid’s hair, carding a few sweaty curls from his forehead. His heart was still beating quickly even though his breathing had slowed. He couldn’t really believe it, any of it—laying there staring at Sid’s textured ceiling made him feel weirdly out of his body, many millions of miles away from his old life, and the old person he had called home. “You good host, I’m very satisfy. Five stars. I come back for sure.” 

He watched Sid duck his face into his chest and smile, and then settle himself into Zhenya’s side, his face pressed against the sweaty skin over Zhenya’s heart. He hadn’t really pegged Sid as a sex cuddler—more the kind to pat you on the ass and say ‘good game’ and toddle off to get dressed—but he couldn’t say he was mad about this unexpected turn. He wondered what other things Sid might surprise him with as they got to know each other better. The future seemed endless. Full of unknown and terrifying possibility. 

Zhenya waited for a long silent beat, listening to two people running up the stairs with heavy feet and giggling their way into the washroom. Hopefully Max had gone home with someone and forgotten Zhenya was even still here, because he wanted very much to give into his urge to pass out, too warm and stinking of sex, a mess in this unmade bed. 

“Good,” Sid said after a while, long enough that Zhenya had perhaps thought he was asleep. He smacked his lips and pressed a sloppy sideways kiss to Zhenya’s chest. “I want you to.”


End file.
